


ask for help.

by marcoftmario



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship/Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 12:52:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9236042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marcoftmario/pseuds/marcoftmario
Summary: Josh is not saving him, he reminds to himself.He’s just making him laugh.But he’s the only one who can, and that makes it kind of the same.(Maybe it’s the weed what makes him laugh, but again, can’t that be the same?)He doesn’t care.He pretends he doesn’t care, at least.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my very first fanfic on this fandom, on these two, and I don't know how it came out. I might've exaggerated a little bit, but I don't know, because depression is sort of like that.  
> I don't know, I just liked the idea of Josh being there for Tyler.  
> Hope you enjoy it!

Tyler thinks about it, seriously, for the second time in this night. He thinks about it because he hasn’t got any other option; he’s watching Josh, next to him, asleep. Completely relaxed.

It’s 3:47 AM. He can’t help it.

Josh is not saving him, he reminds to himself.

He’s just making him laugh.

But he’s the only one who can, and that makes it kind of the same.

(Maybe it’s the weed what makes him laugh, but again, can’t that be the same?)

He doesn’t care.

He pretends he doesn’t care, at least.

He starts mumbling a song, really low, so his companion doesn’t wake up. It’s something that he’s been thinking a lot about, recently (the song), and he _really_ wants to sit and write lyrics to it. He might do it right now, actually.

He gets up from the bed he’s using, and starts making his way towards the desk. On the way, he kicks off his slippers (the ones he stole from Josh) and when he reaches the comfortable chair he sits.

He turns on the light, because it is dim and he knows it won’t wake Josh. He positions it facing down, to the wood of the table, as he takes a piece of paper from the pile, and a pen.

Tyler doesn’t really understand why Josh’s got that much paper ‘since it’s evident that he doesn’t write a word ever (he knows him, and he can feel the dust that’s fallen on the sheet). But he leaves it like that, now having more important things to care about.

He starts writing, the pen scratching the paper furiously, the rhymes coming out almost on their own, trying not to think and to write whatever comes to his mind.

(He writes about depression.)

It’s always like that. He writes whatever he wants; it ends up not so bad –but not good definitely– and he cleans everything later, making of it a rather good stanza for a song.

He tries to write honest things, to keep them real and he tries to tell his truth.

(Maybe that’s why Josh always tries so hard to make him laugh: because he says exactly how he feels, he says on his songs everything he can’t say spontaneously, face to face. And Josh listens to it.

He likes when Josh listens to his songs, especially after they were recorded. He likes his reactions, he likes when he closes his eyes to concentrate and he _even_ likes when he laughs and asks, interrupting, if _Ty, please, can´t you repeat the last verse? I didn’t catch a word_. And he repeats it; he repeats the entire song thrice if Josh asks him with that voice, because he loves it.)

\--

His thoughts aren’t always depressing.

Especially when Josh is close to him. they can’t be.

(He can’t afford that.)

(Josh doesn’t deserve it.)

He keeps thinking that, just to get himself distracted, but he really can’t. All the rhymes he wrote are shit and the sentences don’t have power, they fade away after he reads them.

That’s not good.

He knows it as soon as the voice appears.

Not good.

_Is that really all you can do? Why don’t you stop doing that? It’s a waste of time. Your existence is a waste of time, in fact._

He doesn’t want to see the piece of paper that represents his failure. He turns off the light, his hands shaking because the voice (himself) took less than a minute to make him feel absolutely scared.

It’s not enough, there isn’t enough darkness, and he wants his brain to stop.

He closes his eyes but he just _can’t_ \- and he knows the fear and the pain and the failure and _not being good enough_ and the regret, everything will reappear as soon as he leaves it a minimal chance.

As soon as he doubts, just for one second.

And what’s the point on fighting if you know you’re going to lose eventually?

He gives up.

_You’re an idiot._

It starts.

He rests his head on the table, as gently as he can, and he tries not to cry.

_You can’t even fight me properly. You’re making it too easy for me._

The voice on his head repeats the words every night. Sometimes, the order is different, but it doesn’t matter because the effect on him is the same.

He doesn’t want to start crying, not yet. It’s barely started.

_Why don’t you fucking kill yourself, huh? Your life is useless_.

To his surprise, the voice’s skipped the light part; the worst part. Somehow, that’s adding more pain.

_Come on. You’re suffering. Your life is- you’re unhappy. You’ll end all the suffering, I promise._

He took a deep breath. He was weak. He had nothing to fight for. He feared, he was scared, and not of dying; that was the only thing he wasn’t scared of. He was scared that he’d keep living like that.

_There will be peace. No more pain. You’ll be finally, at once, free from all the things you’re scared of._

Tyler doesn’t know what to do anymore.

He gets up, without even noticing it. He catches the slightest glimpse of Josh opening his eyes, but he’s heading to the bathroom and doesn’t really see him. And suddenly he’s looking at his reflection on the mirror. He watches every single one of his factions, memorizing them, hating them more than ever.

He feels so bad, he wants to vomit. He feels so bad, everything he feels is endless pain, _so bad he could kill himself._

He doesn’t even have a reason to feel that way. He just does, and that makes him feel worse. (Worse than ever.)

He’ll do it.

He’ll just fucking end this pointless game.

He doesn’t want to be scared anymore.

And he isn’t; now he is not scared.

\--

“Ty?” He opens his eyes suddenly.

(He didn’t even realize they were closed.)

“Ty, you’ve been in the bathroom for like half an hour and I didn’t want to say anything but I can’t wait more time. I need to pee, man.”

He can’t laugh. His sleepy voice can’t make him laugh, not tonight. And as he doesn’t feel like he can talk, either, he just opens the door, revealing a Josh with the hair _more_ messed up than the usual (but colourful, as usual). He cannot see his face very well, because Tyler apparently turned the light off without realizing, but Josh did turn on the light from the room.

“Why are you in the darkness?” Josh says, as he presses the interrupter. Tyler’s face is suddenly illuminated, and he knows he looks awful. Josh looks down –Ty is sitting on the floor–. “Go to bed, please. I don’t even want to ask you- please, get up, go to bed; let me pee. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Tyler doubts. He gets up but he continues looking down, afraid. “Ty, look at me” he doesn’t, so the other one feels the right to place a hand on Tyler’s chin and force him to look into his eyes. He doesn’t hesitate. “Go to the room, lie on your bed, and cover yourself with blankets. Keep the light on. Just- I’ll just pee and be with you.”

He smiles, not sincerely, but it’s worth the try.

Tyler does as he was told, because it’s okay to self-pity and cry on the corners and don’t say a word when he’s alone, but he knows Josh doesn’t deserve that. He’s too good, too kind as a friend; he doesn’t have any reason to stand his depressed side.

(Even though that’s his only side.)

Less than a minute later, Josh is there next to him. He stops at the door, sighs and just sits on the same bed Tyler is in. Josh looks at him for a second, and Tyler just closes his eyes. He feels like he has to say something.

“Thank you. You got me out of there. I don’t know what might’ve happened” images of Josh finding his dead body the next morning flashes in front of his eyes, giving him chills.

“Hey, are you cold?”

He’s not.

“Well, a little bit. Come with me” he asks, and Josh does it. He wraps an arm around his stomach and looks as him; he keeps looking at him as if he’s trying to say something.

“You need to wake me up whenever this happens. You need to call me, if I’m not there. You need to ask for help. Please, ask for help.”

Tyler nods. He knows he won’t ask for help next time, and Josh probably knows it too, but they just ignore it for the moment.

Tyler suddenly feels the urge to hug him, as strongly as he can, and he does. Josh lets him do until Tyler lets go of him and starts feeling what is happening. The beautiful feeling of a body pressed against his makes him feel good. He doesn’t want to go, doesn’t want Josh to go. He tells him.

“I’m not going anywhere, I swear” is the answer he gets.

He’s really good to calm people.

“Try to get some sleep. I’ll be here, next to you, all the time. We’ll talk about all this tomorrow. Now…” as he speaks, his fingers caress him; his face, his neck, his shoulders and he’s shirtless, so Josh can draw figures on the torso gently, just to relax him. It’s the best feeling on earth “just…” Josh looks at him, massages gently his face, with their faces only inches apart. “close your eyes and…” his voice is soft, soothing. He will finally, after weeks, months, sleep properly. He already knows it. “sleep.”

He closes his eyes and the only thing he keeps feeling, even on his dream, is Josh’s hand around his torso and his hair tickling on his neck.

That´s the only feeling he wants to keep forever.

“God, you really need to get high” he hears him whisper, and then a laugh, soft, and he understands Josh thinks he’s asleep.

Less than a minute later, he _is_ asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> (I had planned to write that Josh was just a product of Tyler's imagination, but when I tried to write it, it was just too sad. I might do it in another fanfic).  
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
